Visitation

In the dream my mother pours
a gallon of milk over my head
because her boyfriend held my hand
under the table.

The stop-action movie of the whole thing makes us rich enough
to forget it never happened. Still
I’m not invited to the wedding.

Such a small affair she says
it took place inside a SIM card.

There was only room for one child But

you should’ve seen your brother!
Running all around!

My hand turns into a hoof. My hoof
turns into a hand.
Work at the cow-costume factory keeps me busy.

But I can still hear
the click of the camera shutter.
I can still feel that white
slop dripping from my lips.